Taking a deep breath, Barnabas hesitantly places his foot on the rune marked as a D. To his relief nothing happens. Behind him both Kaynen and Kergh blink in surprise. They had not mentioned that each of the runes throughout the room radiated strong magic that seemed associated with fire. While Kaynen knew that some magic could be masked or even changed to deceive, the fact that the first room had been so carefully crafted to do so bothered him. Usually tests got harder as they progressed. At least thats how it was at the university. Following the rest of the runes that mark the word "DECEPTION" Barnabas arrives at the southern wall. Letting his eyes focus on the stonework and mortar, he nods to himself. Taking a second glance, this time closer he checks the door for traps, but finds nothing of the sort. Breathing softly, he pushes inward and the door slides open. leading to a ten foot passage way and into the next room. Inscribed on the stone floor is a short phrase. “Thou hast seen through deception to uncover a new path, always be wary of a obvious.”
Reaching the end of the hallway Barnabas is greeted by another lesson inscribed on the stone arch above the open door leading into the room. II. Choose your battles. Pointless conflict is a depravity of chaos. Peeking into the next room, Barnabas frowns. The room ahead is twenty feet wide by thirty feet long and most of it has a ten foot high ceiling. The arch opens into the middle of the northern twenty foot wall. At the opposite end of the room another archway opens out, it appears to be the only exit.
The worrying prospect however is the construction of the room itself. The central third of the room the room is entirely occupied by two ten foot by ten foot cells. The cells themselves appear to be made of glass, though such large sheets would be exorbitantly expensive. The glass itself allows for the former slaver to see into them easily with little distortion, aided by the four lit braziers that stand in each of the rooms four corners. Each glass cell has a door on the north and south side of the room. While the middle wall of the cells is shared, a wall runs through them upto the ceiling, but there is no door between the to. It appears that, in order to pass through this room the Forsaken will have to go through one of the two cells.
Currently both cells are occupied. One contains what appears to be a wolf with extremely light grey fur that restlessly paces back and forth. As soon as Barnabas glances through the arch, the wolf's head comes around it looking directly at the sneering man and snarls. The other cell has a low ceiling, perhaps four feet high. Everyone would have to stoop far over to pass through it, and Grumblejack would have to crawl. The floor of the cell seethes with movement. There are thousands, possibly tens of thousands, of thumb-sized, shiny black beetles scuttling back and forth on the floor. Even from twenty feet away, Barnabas can hear the faint whisper of their skittering limbs. They do not react to his appearance.
The strange words are not so muddled now that he has Barbellar whispering inside his head. She teases and twists but still the sentences follow, Kergh is nothing if not patient and eventually nods to himself with a less slobbery grin.
"Wolf or beetles. Beetles not dangerous are they? Bugs."
Hand resting on his sheathed sword's pommel, Ethaniel follows Barnabas and the rest of them as they move from the first room to the second. "Bugs are usually not all that dangerous, dear Kergh, yes," the magus remarks, "but there are so very many of them. Enough to cover us from head to toe, I would wager, just as they cover the floor beneath them." He pauses in thought for a moment, then looks to the others and adds pointedly, "If there is indeed a floor beneath them..."
"It seems that pointless conflict is not approved," he continues as his eyes turn to look at the pale wolf, his gaze not faltering even as the wolf fixes its own eyes on him. "But what if in this case it is not pointless? Or what if conflict with the beast is not even necessary, provided we had something to offer it, such as food?"
"Just thoughts and ideas," he concludes with a shrug before approaching the wolf's cell so as to get a better look at the creature inside.
Oswald joins the others in pondering the riddle of the two choices. A vicious wolf or a carpet of snapping mandibles. One was an obvious hazard while the other was an unknown. The doctor paces back and forth in front of each room, "Pointless conflict. To traverse either room is to court danger. Perhaps if we could feed one to the other, the path would be clear. Turn our foes upon one another as it were."
Oswald stops beside the beetle doorway before crouching down to examine their shiny carapaces at a closer distance. From his coat pocket, amidst his requested medical supplies, the mad doctor pulls forth some metallic tweezers. Carefully as to not disturb the whole swarm, he attempts to reach in and procure one of their vast number for testing purposes. First there were tests to see its level of agression, tests to see if it was well fed or hungered for any flesh placed before it, and finally tests to see if the insects made suitable cuisine for the canine in the other room. Perhaps a bribe could open the way.
Once the way is clear, Drisella carefully follows along the path outlined by Barnabas, with Walker in Darkness following closely at her heels. She is mindful of Grumblejack, helping show him the safe places to walk but giving no explanation other than the implied, because you were told to, on why he should do so. By the time Drisella reaches the next chamber, she can already hear Oswald's solution, one that -- by her reading of the inscription -- is a sound one.
The young, dark-haired girl voices no opinion and instead waits silently at the entrance to this chamber, cradling the puzzle-box in both hands with Walker waiting just behind her and Grumblejack not far behind. Her stare is distant, not quite listless, but it is as though she were looking for something other than the material.
"Ephisfara," Drisella speaks clearly, and her irises softly glow in a warm amber color. Now, the weaving of magic is as visible as her hand in front of her face.
___________
Barnabas cringes backwards when Oswald pop open the door to grab a specimen. "What are you doing man?" The disgraced nobel exclaims,"This whole place is a death trap. Don't touch anything. A N Y T H I N G! Until either I or Kaynen have given the ok."
Shuddering, he begins to check the whole front area for secret doors or traps
"Fighting either would be pointless. Let see if there is a third way out of this room. I don't think we should trust any of the doors down here."
Still muttering about Oswald's cavalier opening of the door, he keep up his excruciatingly slow search. "Does anyone know what kinds of beasties those are? I can't imagine that's only a simple wolf. Probably some kind of super wolf or demon wolf or something."
Ethaniel sighs and, still studying the wolf, mutters a brief incantation, at the same time passing his right hand in front of his eyes with a quick and graceful motion. As soon as the gesture ends, his view of his surroundings subtly changes and the magical can now more easily be differentiated from the mundane.
Oswald is startled out of his contemplation as Barnabas scolds him at tampering with the door before they were first checked, "My apologies, Barnabas. Common sense often fails me when I'm deep in thought. By all means, examine away." Afterward, the doctor goes back to his study of the beetles and the wolf.
Mikhail eyes both the potential enemies, looking back and forth from left to right. "The wolf is likely the more dangerous of the two, but it is a single creature. Once dead, the threat is complete. The beetles are individually not dangerous, but likely will present a continuing problem for us."
He walks over to the braziers in the corner and taps on one of them. "Unless we were to burn away the annoyances at once without risk to ourselves." He looks at the others. "We have two rather large flames here, and I'd wager that we could find something flammable to spread the fire. If we were to break the glass at a high level and put the insects to the flame, would it be enough to kill all of them?"
Kaynen's fingers strum to a silent tune against several of the newer vials affixed to his belt, humming to himself as his eyes drink in the two cages and their occupants.
He licks his lips like a man with a thirst for something and nods at the conclusions presented by the others.
As he inspects them, he works the words into a hummed tune.
"Pointless conflict... chaos..."
Stretching, he adds his insights to those of the others.
"A room full of beetles in undoubtedly unwanted chaos. I'm struck by the mention of pointless conflict. Perhaps we can bargain with this wolf - it could be some form of lycanthrope?"
Kherg moves up a little to see the wolf up close. His white eye fixes on the animal as it pads back and forth. The priest grins and nods at some internal conversation.
.....................
"Remember the stonewrack, dwarf, and the way that you felt. You are nothing. This wolf is that thing too. A creature to be plucked, stretched, in pain or just ordered and if it cannot do what is told then killed. No mercy, that means pain or death. Barbellar speaks and gives you words. Now stop slobbing and tell them. Remember the wrack."
I not want wrack ever. Ever again. I speak up.
.....................
"Maybe wolf afraid and will serve us like Grumblejack. She says that."
Oswald continues his study of the beetle as he suddenly erupts in a soft chuckle, "Very interesting. The beetles along one branch of the offered choices are in fact completely harmless. To be exact, they are a subspecies of the carrion scarab or 'necromancer's friend' as they are commonly known. Like the maggot, they have appetites solely sated by dead flesh and find the taste of the living unpalatable. While it might be uncomfortable, they should pose us no threat if we choose their path. I cannot say if something else awaits within, hidden amidst the crawling chaos, but there is that."
Kherg mutters, "I right. Just bugs." He stops looking at the wolf and prepares to open door number two, the scarabous beetles climb and skitter, tumbling over each other in a large swarm,
Kaynen rubs his chin appreciatively as he studies the wolf, speaking loud enough for the creature to hear his thoughts.
"My dear wolf, you aren't entirely a normal wolf, now are you? Your bone structure appears... vaguely... humanoid."
Intent gleams in the half-elf's eyes, but what intent is unclear.
"Clearly if someone lets all these beetles out, Tiadora or someone is going to have to get them all back in the cage for our master's next retinue of pets... can't not have a half-dozen hoops primed for the dogs, now can we?"
Kaynen, ever the dabbler in reagents, considers how his magic may play at the puzzle.
Kherg comes to a decision, well he looks nervously at Mikhail and Ethaniel for a moment and then nods and ducks his head. "By your will."
The priest quickly opens the bug door steps in and shuts it again. He intends to walk across and open the door opposite.
"It be faith. Not magic at the heart of this."
............
Scroll back a few moments.
"You see when the contract was signed. It talked on many tests. These glass doors are one. You believe the bugs are safe. You know the rules of this room. Trust and have faith in Our Lord. Stop leaving it to the others. Show them the new Kherg."
I do not have a choice. Barbellar knows best. Doesn't she?
Eyes flashing with a feral gleam the wolf watches Kayen intently while the group discusses what to do. The half elf is able to clearly make out signs of mistreatment on the beast, but it's still a large, powerful animal. It wears a metal spiked collar, although the spikes point inward, not out. They points seem to dig in visibly into the flesh of its neck and it looks extremely uncomfortable. From behind, Drisella and Oswald are able to detect with their magic that the collar radiates magic. After staring at it for a few moments, both can see that its aura is pale violet in color, it is from the school of abjuration.
Meanwhile Kergh steps forward towards the glass door. The door itself opens inwards and it is also made out of the same oddly glass like substance too. There is a large metal handle affixed to the closest to the forsaken but oddly there is no handle on the inside at all but the door leading out does have a handle. It appears as if the door is a one way option. Stepping forward with a resolved gait, Kergh opens the door to the swarm of carrion beetles.
Opening effortlessly the door moves without a sound and Kergh steps through without difficulty except for the fact that the beetles begin to sudden crawl all over him. Along his arms, chest and head they skitter and crawl and within seconds he is immersed in them. While truly disgusting, the bugs are, in fact, harmless. Creeping and crawling they slide along the misshapen man, tickling and tasting. As the priest of Asmodeus pushes his way through the narrow room the scarabs crunch under his feet. The sensation is more than merely unpleasant as they crawl into Kerghs hair and they poke their little heads into his ear canals, checking to see if there's any rotting inside. Because of the low ceiling Kergh has to eventually stoop and crawl forward which makes it even worse. The bugs clustered on the ceiling drop on top of the man and skitter down his shirt. The beetles are fast and shiny with black carapaces and they have hairy little legs.
But Kergh is able to cross the room. The door at the opposite end isn't locked either. Fumbling his way towards the other end of the cell he finds that it opens easily, and he is able to step out and stand up before violently shaking off the beetles. On the other side he finds himself in the small 20' x 10' chamber at the far end of this room and there is yet another door, through which he could choose proceed. Meanwhile the wolf watches all this through the glass, with every appearance of intent interest.
Shuddering somewhat at the sight of Kergh covered from head to toe by the little creatures, Ethaniel turns his attention towards the wolf one last time in an attempt to glean some clues behind the various auras surrounding the beast and the collar around its neck.
"Could it be that it is of celestial origin? That would explain the aura of good coming from it," the magus muses, his voice loud enough for the others to hear him. "And the abjuration magic coming from the collar, perhaps its purpose is to bind it here in this room. I wonder if it is also strong enough to prevent it from attacking us though..."
Mikhail watches impassively as Kergh passes through. Of interest to him, though, is whether or not his vampiric heritage might cause him harm here. "I straddle the line between living and dead. I have no guarantee that the insects will ignoreme as they did Kergh. Open the door and secure one of them so that we can determine its reaction to my flesh, or to Oswald's toy."
Nodding thoughtfully at the logic, Oswald takes the single scarab he had already captured and places it next to Mikhail. The bug runs along the floor and up onto the mans boot. Disgustingly the Dhampir can feel the hair legs run along his leg as it twitches in excitement. It is almost as if it can smell something dead, but it can't find anything. After a few seconds the vermin drops off the prince and skitters along the floor. Hesitantly, Oswald takes out his doll and holds it above the scarab. Suddenly in a surprising burst of speed the bug leaps from the stone and onto the doll and begins trying to worm its way along the half made seams. Cursing to himself, Oswald shakes his poppet violently and dislodges the scarab before stamping on it with his boot. While instinctively he knew that it was not his daughter, it still troubled him. It was the last link the man had to his former life.
____________________________
"If the wolf is indeed celestial in origin or at least possesses such traits, perhaps the combined powers of the circlet and the sigil would be able to fool it into not attacking us," Ethaniel proposes after seeing the scarab's reaction to Mikhail's undead nature and Oswald's poppet. "I am willing to give it a try myself," he adds, "but we should be ready for a fight if it does not work. Any objections?"
He looks to the de facto leader of the group, waiting for a reply, his usual crooked smile appearing on his face.
Kherg opens his door and motions for someone to do the same in the party. "What is problem? See I walk through. Oh its doll is it? Just throw me doll."
The un-milky eye winks all puzzled and frowning.
Still waiting by the entrance, Drisella idly taps squares of her puzzlebox, watching the others open doors, be swarmed by insects and otherwise pull, twist, and crank every knob they can in an attempt to circumvent the room's protections. Glancing down to Walker in Darkness, Drisella takes a step into the corridor, motioning for Grumblejack to follow behind her.
Breathing in deeply, the girl exhales a patient sigh and examines the glass cages, then flits her stare in the direction of the wolf, then the skittering mass of beetles. There's a look afforded back over her shoulder to Grumblejack, then to Walker in Darkness as if wondering if they see the same thing she does. The young woman walks up behind Mikhail and slowly draws her dagger out of its sheathe at her wrist. She then, delicately, curls a lock of the vampire's hair around one finger and slices it off.
"Pardon me," she says after the fact in a small voice, then begins approaching the beetles. Crouching down on the ground, Drisella offers out the lock of dhampir hair with all the scent of the half-living it carries, creeping towards the creatures. Then, with a hushed, "aporate" the lock of hair drifts out of her hand to brush over the beetles writhing mass and elicit a reaction.
__________
Oswald grinds his foot into the pile of ichor that was once a scarab as he checks the seams on Rosaline. Luckily, the damage was minimal. Nothing a few minutes with a needle and thread couldn't solve. The mad doctor watches as Drisella attempts a solution by leading the bugs away, "My dear Drisella, if this does not work as you intend then we might try using your cantrip to float my doll through the wolf's room above its head and to the other door with our friend Kergh grabbing it there. Then I should be free to crawl amongst the carrion feeders with immunity."
Arching one brow inquisitively, Drisella offers a moment if scrutiny to Oswald before smiling with appreciation for his cleverness. "Agreed," she notes softly.
Mikhail grits his teeth, running his tongue over his fangs. He pushes his way through the clear gate, feeling the crunch of the hideous beetles under his feet. They rush up his legs, which is a very hideous sensation. They seem additionally attracted to his flesh, which is barely on the side of the living. He feels the bile rising in his throat. Mikhail tries to rush, but they seem to be enveloping him. He closes his eyes, trying to shut out the sensations, but that simply makes things worse. He gets on his knees to crawl through, but starts retching halfway through. He pushes himself further, scrambling to get through the disgusting gauntlet. He makes it through to Kergh, shaking his body and brushing his arms and legs to make sure the beetles fall off. He runs his hands through his hair a few more times, ensuring that no stragglers remain. It takes a few minutes, and Kergh's help, but he finally frees himself of the beetles themselves; however, the disgust and nausea will be with him for a while.
Kergh bats and splats at the beetles releasing their acrid odour in puffs of greenish gas. He wipes down the shells, dropping to the flagstones.
With their path forward somewhat clearer, Kaynen shrugs while he approaches the beetles, despite his gaze continuing to linger on the trapped wolf.
"Curious creatures, there's almost a pattern to their movements..."
After securing every last open vial and bottle on his person, he takes a breath and moves through to join Kergh and the others on the far side.
The sensations of thousands of tiny feet and feelers on his person get the better of the half-elf, who feels the need to comment on the experience to nobody in particular.
"You know, this remi---"
Despite all his scholarly knowledge, Kaynen forgets one important detail - never open your mouth to speak while in a cage full of thousands of insects.
With his mouth open, a dozen or so see an opportunity for a more thorough investigation of the half-elf and scamper inside.
Kaynen stumbles out, keeling over, emptying both beetle and breakfast onto the stone floor, a pale green hue accenting the flush on his cheeks.
With apparently the last beetle vomited up, he grimaces with a *crunch* and begins to chew.
"Not wholly inedible. In fact, some of these may prove..."
Eyes wide, the half-elf curls up once again and empties his stomach.
Following the sickening passage through the narrow tunnel of carrion scarabs, Kaynen and Mikhail finally reach the end. Opening the door quickly a few of the carrion beetles manage to get out when the door is opened. They skitter along the floor, the vast majority in some form of swarming movement remain clumped. That is until Drisella offers them something, their small, insignificant minds cannot refuse.. food
Levitating the lock of hair that reeks of death that the bugs are able to sense they surge against the glass wall. Giving a nod, Oswald quickly opens the door as the slim woman directs the lock of hair into the air barely out of reach of the swarm. As the bugs stream out of the stone enclosure the rest of the forsaken quickly make their way through before closing the door on the other side.
In a scrambling pile of black chitin the swarm descends on the lock of hair and in less then a second it is gone. Watching from the other side of the glass wall, the members of the ninth knot see the swarm return back to the darkest place in the room... the small cell.
Catching their breath, the wolf watches the whole event unfold with sharp percing eyes by says nothing. As the Mikhail and Kaynen's nausea fade, Barnabas moves over and checks the door leading out of the room. Finding it unlocked with no diabolical traps or mechanisms he opens it carefully. As the door swings open it leads down another short corridor, ten feet wide and thirty long. At the end of the corridor there is another door with writing on it.
This door however is different from the last few. It's large, nearly ten feet tall and made from a set of double doors. The second curious thing about the door is that it's flimsy, even at a glance the Forsaken are able to tell that the doors are constructed from thin, light wood. In fact a single smashing blow from an axe or mace could could bash its way through the doors without too much difficulty.
Atop of the door again carved in the stone archway is writing that reads: III. Force and cunning are two powerful tools. Answer force with greater force, but answer greater force with cunning. To the cunning mind everything is a potential weapon.
Again checking the weak door for traps, Barnabas finds nothing and with a shrug opens it. Beyond lies a simple stone chamber, thirty feet long by thirty feet wide, or so is assumed at first glance. The room is dimly lit from a few patches of faintly luminescent lichen that glows dimly on the walls and corners of the room. Yet despite the gloomy, almost dark interior there is one thing readily apparent. There is a very complex, extremely unpleasant smell here.
Carefully Barnabas moves into the room before drawing to a halt. The room seems has no other apparent exits. However, ahead of him, though the darkness on the eastern wall is a tall gap or alcove that might be the beginning of an exit. It's impossible to say for the man to tell however, because it's completely blocked by what looks like a crude curtain made from some sort of coarse, heavy drapery or tarpaulin.
Next to the curtain about a foot away, a heavy braided cord hangs from a hole in the ceiling. It ends in a heavy tassel about five feet off the floor.
The room is silent, ominously so.
Whistling back up the corridor to signal the all clear. Barnabas calls up the rest of the knot. Digging in his backpack, he pulls out a sunrod and tapping it on the floor, it springs to life, filling the dim room with light. He looks around cautiously, but does not leave the vicinity of the door. As the others catch up he says, "Anybody else smell that?"
With the others there, Barnabas start a slow examination of the room, slowly making his way towards the cord and curtain.
Tapping the sunrod a white light fills the room giving the others a chance to take in full scope of the chamber. Mold covers the corners, walls and bits of the ceiling and in the new light you can see that it has a greenish tint to it. The stone is unremarkable and after several tense minutes of checking, Barnabas is unable to find anything out of the ordinary. Moving forward cautiously, the man can see that there seems to be quick release attached to the corners of the heavy drapery that are linked to the ceiling. Its hard to tell without examining it further, but it looks like it could be tied to the heavy braided cord that runs though the small hole in the ceiling.
You recognize this stench as you have smelled it many times before. It is the smell of dead flesh and embalming fluid.
_____________________________
Oswald inhales the aroma deep into his nasal passages before his whole body shakes with a little pleasurable shudder. An odd smile plays across his lips for a few brief moments as he turns to look at Barnabas and answer his inquiry, "Yes, a smell I know well. My father's funeral home smelled much the same way, underneath the stench of burning incense and sage to mask the odor. The cemetery where I spent many a lost year smelled very much like this. Barnabas, my comrade, it is the scent of death itself. Flesh rotting and turning into fertilizer. And with a hint of... ah yes, formaldehyde and methanol or as you might know it in layman's terms, embalming fluid. Most likely employed in forestalling previously stated rot."
The doctor steps up beside Barnabas, examining the lichen, the alcove and it's drapery, and finally the hanging cord, "By the chamber's words, this is another puzzle where the strength of our minds must be used over the strength of our arms. To pull the cord, to not pull the cord. To open the curtain, to not open the curtain. A quandary." As he speaks, Oswald waves his fingers over his eyes, peeling back the layers of reality until magic glows before his vision.
Kergh takes the lead from Oswald and begins casting. He calls on the Thorned Lord to tell him of the presence of poison.
Don't know what this is. "Then don't speak! Never show a lack of knowledge - it is a weakness! You fool!. Sure Barbellar sure.
Having given the others a little while to investigate the room, Drisella slowly enters with puzzlebox cradled between her palms. Walker in Darkness follows at her heels, while Grumblejack's bulbous frame squeezes through the doorway, then lets out a grunt as he picks at one ear contentedly. Seeing Oswald scanning the room for magic, Drisella approaches the mortician and arches one black brow slowly.
"What do you see?" She asks in a soft voice, looking in the direction of the curtain with mild curiosity.
Casting their spells, Oswald and Kergh study the room, their magic flooding outward in an attempt to glean more information. Perhaps to their relief or disappointment the spells both detect nothing out of the ordinary. No magical auras, even beyond the burlap cover are revealed, nor does the fungus show any signs of poison or toxicity.
Mikhail tries to stifle the lingering feeling of illness from his run-in with the beetles who hungered for his flesh. He could have sworn that he felt some of them taking tentative bites into his skin, as if they weren't sure whether his flesh was alive or dead.
Whatever the challenge of this room is, it is not visible in the room quiet with death. Something would have to change so that they could make a decision one way or another. "Drisella, pull the cord with your magic. Everyone, prepare yourselves. If the smell is the harbinger of a corpse - undead or otherwise - we have the perfect solution at our backs to deal with it."
At Mikhail's request, Drisella motions to Walker in Darkness and the lithe and shadowy creature slinks in front of her, coming to a stop directly in front of its master. The creature's wicked tail lashes back and forth slowly, while it hunches down and waits for some imperceptible threat. "Grumblejack," Drisella croons, motioning back to the ogre, "Can you move over there?" She points towards the curtain, "Stand in front of it, and if anything should come out when it opens..." her lips crook up into a smile. "Just smash it until it stops moving."
Grumblejack lets out a grunt of effort, scrubbing one hand at the back of his head as he lumbers into the room. The pondrous ogre offers a look down to Mikhail as he walks by, followed by a broad, toothy smile before ambling over to a spot adjacent to the curtain as Drisella instructed. Ready for anything, the ogre breathes in deeply, hands clenched into fists.
Looking up to Mikhail, Drisella arches one brow, then waves her hand in the direction of the cord in the ceiling, making a tugging gesture with curled fingers to reveal--
"No poison here. It says answer force with greater force."
Kherg readies his nice shiny new spiked chain and feels a thrum of love churn through himself from simply holding his Lord's weapon for the first time in anger.
As Oswald finishes his magical surveying of the room, he takes a place near Drisella to see what the cord actually does, "There is no lingering magic hiding surprises, at least to my eyes. I suppose this puzzle will have to do with the dead based on the smell. If any of them happen to still be walking about they will not be of any great threat to us, I'm sure."
As Drisella waves her hand in the direction of the cord in the ceiling, the drape falls to the floor with a silent slump. Standing behind the curtain is a conglomeration that is roughly humanoid in shape. The sickening, or perhaps inventive thing wowever, is it appears to be made of pieces of several bodies, sewn, stapled and sutured together. In a brief moment of rational clarity despite the horror, the knot is able to see that not all of the bodies are human. One of the creature's legs seems to have come from a horse and the other looks like the hindlimb of a giant toad. Its arms are grotesquely long. One seems to be from a troll and ogre, the other from some sort of giant primate. The lower half of the creature's head appears roughly human, but the top consists of a large, translucent dome. The dome is filled with a pale greenish fluid. A brain floats inside it, connected to hundreds of fine wires.
Suddenly you recognize the smell. It's rotting meat, mixed with chemicals and the sharp reek of ozone. The stench is coming off the creature in waves. Its flesh is visibly decaying; patches of it are greenish and slimy.
Metal plates of armor have been attached to the creature's hide. They don't cover all of it, but they will certainly make it more difficult to hit. Below the armor, you can see metal rods and sparking wires, as if the rotting flesh had been somehow augmented with pieces of insane machinery. The thing's ape-arm ends, not in a hand, but in a particularly complex piece of machinery with a large hole at one end.
A loud, distorted voice issues from the creature -- not from its mouth, but from a circular metal hole in its chest.
says Zargo.
____________________________________
Oswald tilts his head upward, tracking every putrid inch of the towering monstrosity and all its many non-matching components, "Oh, wonderful. It would seem I need to revise my previous statement. The dwarf has out done himself. Stray into its reach at your own peril, friends."
As the creature starts twitching to life, the doctor heads toward the exit door back to the other room, calling out behind him as he goes, "As the Lord said, our benefactors supply us with the solution to this little problem. Its flesh looks rotted enough and the animating spirit is providing little revitalizing life force that our black shelled friends in the other room would have a feast to be thankful for in the body. Let us put them to use." Oswald hastens his step, pulling out Rosaline as he goes. He looks at his poppet, whispering under his breath, "Be brave for me, my dear."
Kherg begins to take a step forwards then his head bucks and he hisses in anger.
"You will go back. Be sensible. Let the beetles kill it. Now!"
His head reverberates with the spiteful and angry Barbellar. The misshapen hunchback slopes after Oswald, grinning to himself at the idea of using cunning little creatures.
"Tactical withdrawal it is then. Sleep with one eye open, Dwarf. I'll be coming for you, but it's nothing personal."
Following Kergh and Oswald's suggestion, Barnabas bolts from the room, heading for the glass chambered room as fast as his feet will take him.
With a look of disgust worn on his face like a jester's mask, Kaynen did his best to ignore the smell of death in the room.
As his hand strayed to one of the handful of flasks fastened to his belt, he paused as Oswald, Kergh and Barnabas all rushed past him to the prior room.
"Ah. The beetles! Of course..."
And without another word, the half-elf turned on his heel as well.
Drisella shows momentary shock when the cadaverous amalgamation is revealed, and Walker assumes a defensive stance as its steely teeth are bared from behind inky lips. "No," she urges to her shadowy companion, taking a few slinking steps backwards. "With the others, come!" Drisella is quick to follow the path of retreat, knowing full well that Oswald's plan is a sound one.
Grumblejack, to his credit, had already contemplated running for wholly selfish reasons when the shambling corpse-pile came animate. But on seeing the others withdrawing in a less than frenzied panic, he presumes that perhaps there may be a plan involved somewhere. Turning bulbous eyes towards the corpse creature, Grumblejack too moves back, though his great bulk keeps him at the rear of that procession, awkwardly leaving the ogre as the plug in the hallway between the golem and the other members of the knot.
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With an expression of discomfort only the smell of rotting flesh can bring, Ethaniel follows the others' example, nodding at Mikhail with a smile in acknowledgment of his rather smart plan. "I am assuming a combination of Drisella's magic and another lock of your hair might do the trick and help lure the beetles out," the magus says to the vampiric noble. "Although if this becomes a trend, you might consider getting an actual haircut before long," he adds, perhaps a little too mirthfully considering the circumstances.
Wires spark, hissing and popping along the creatures body. Its servomotors begin to whine as the creature raises on massive arm.
As the forsaken begin to run from the room, the creature of metal, wire and decrepit corpses begin to ramble after it.
As if to exclaim his point, the Zargo controlled amalgamation points his alchemical laced hand towards the open doorway that Grumblejack currently occupies.
As the black ichor laced bomb explodes outward down the hall it collides with the back of Grumblejack who trails behind the others. Howling in pain the Ogre stumbles but managed to keep his feet. Black ichor hisses as it touched the floor and from the impact it sprays outward from its impact point drenching the walls as well as arcing towards Drisella who manages to throw herself out of the way avoiding much of the black, smoking ichor.
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Mikhail takes care not to seem panicked as he follows the others. He barely gives notice to Grumblejack bellowing in pain as he ducks under the ogre. The bottom of his boots smoke as he strides over the ichor. Mikhail raises his back up slightly to ensure that his cloak doesn't drag on the floor, as that would mean that the bottom would become burned and frayed. Just as he had surmised, the others were heading to force the golem into the waiting mandibles of the beetles. His stomach turns as he remembers the horrible sensation of the insects crawling on him, but he hopes that the golem's feedback gives the same sensation to Zargo.
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Hissing as she recoils from the ichor, Drisella turns back and looks at Grumblejack stumbling and staggering, smoke rising off of his back from the ichor. Walker in Darkness crouches down and digs his claws against the stone, a hollow, metallic growl emanating from deep within. Drisella shakes her head, jerking a gesture back and the eidolon lets out a snarl and springs backwards, sprinting to join the others.
"Grumblejack!" Drisella howls, pointing to the golem, "slow it down!" As the young woman turns, Grumblejack looks with wide eyes at her retreating form, then over its shoulder at the janky form of the golem lumbering down the hall. Grunting, Grumblejack looks flustered as he scrapes a handful of the black, tarry ichor off of his back.
Then, like an angry simian, hurls a handful of that black, tarry substance back at the golem with a shout of frustration and pain. The black ichor splatters against the golem's head, causing it to jerk back from the force of the ogre's throw. The black, tarry substance burning grumblejack's back now slides in sticky lengths down the golem's face, obstructing its view.
Grumblejack, snorting angrily, lopes off after the others with a sense of ogrish accomplishment.
Down the end of the hall, Drisella comes to a skidding halt in front of the door. With one hand she twists the knob and opens it, holding out her other hand towards Oswald as she speaks the same eldritch incantation as before, curling her fingers in a grasping gesture.
Drisella curses her choice to discard the lock of Mikhail's hair from earlier as she makes that motion towards Oswald. "If you would be so kind," she urges, taking his suggestion of the poppet's use with a telekinetic brush of unseen force to disengage his poppet from his hand, dangling it precariously close to the spiders before moving the doll fifteen feet backwards towards the golem, trying her best to keep them on the opposite side of the hall from Mikhail.
Hopefully the stench of the cadaverous machine will overwhelm the scent of the poppet, and lure them fully to their next meal.